Helix: Coma Black
by onelildustbunni
Summary: A tie-in to Helix 4: armagoddnmotherfkingeddon, between chapters 143 and 144. Please read the Helix series see my author page before reading this standalone story. Rated M. Pairing- Hellion and X-23.
1. Chapter 1

**Story title: **Helix: Coma Black

**Pairing: **Hellion / X-23

**Rating: **M

**Universe: **AU...of an AU! More specifically, Helix AU.

**NOTE: **This is a standalone story, but is part of my Helix series. The contents of this story are what Laura Kinney dreams during her coma. It is recommended that you  
read from Helix 2 (Another version of the Truth) onwards to 4, otherwise you will not understand who some of the characters are (the Shrimps, for instance--they are OC's).  
However, if you are already reading that series, it's optional to read this, as the events in this story do not affect canon Helix at all. Enjoy! ~onelildustbunni

* * *

**-1-**

**

* * *

  
**

**Before.**

The young woman in the lab coat walked briskly down the corridor, ignoring the moaning on either side. She had heels—high, stiletto boots—and the clicks echoed in the dim light.

_Click, click, click, click, click…_

_Keys rattling. _

The woman looked down her slightly beaky nose with a serious expression. What she was looking at was no laughing matter—a human, or the remains of a  
human. Genesis #12B. A vague face in a puddle of gelatinous goo.

"Damnit." The woman leaned on the doorframe of the cell and looked down at the failed project in frustration. Nudged it with the toe of her boot.

She composed herself after a moment and closed the door, then turned over the clipboard-on-a-chain and scribbled a note. _Experiment #12B failed, please sterilize stall ASAP._

_Click, click, click, click, click…_

**…**

**Before. **

"Dr. Kinney!" A younger man in a labcoat, with short blond hair and thick-rimmed glasses. Looking down on her, his arms folded. She looked up from her laptop.

"This had better be _important, _Quire. I'm working on a particularly complicated part of 14Z's genome. If this is about the damn vending machine again I'll bust your nuts myself."

Quire looked offended. "Hardly. This is about project X—"

Dr. Kinney straightened in her chair. "I told you not to go near X, Quire. That is strictly off limits for an underqualified—"

"That's it!" Quire snapped. "I'm not your _assistant, _Kinney—I'm your _equal,_ if not even your senior. You'd never have been assigned this project if—"

"And I will do far _better_ at this project if I am not constantly harassed," Dr. Kinney said coldly. "Please take that into consideration…before I am forced to _make_ you consider it."

"Oho." Quire grinned. "I thought you'd want to know that your little project is having _breathing _problems, at this moment. Someone's been playing with the respirator settings again."

Dr. Kinney rose to her feet with an alarmed expression, then swept out of the room.

**…**

"He seems restless," Dr. Quire observed, later that day. "Serum 3-30 is definitely having some effect. I'd recommend another 2-week course of daily doses…then trials…and  
then placing bets that 15N is our first success."

Dr. Kinney's green eyes were cold. Crystalline. "Continue with this trial. My project still shows the most promise, of all of them…but it's good to have back-up plans. In case."

Dr. Quire made a _hrumpf _noise. "You and your project, Kinney. Not good to put all your eggs in one basket. It would be a shame if someone were to cut the cord—by accident."

"Mmm." Dr. Kinney made a note on her clipboard. "What a convenient little accident _that_ would be."

Her associate smiled slightly.

She turned and left the room.

**…**

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMM!" The man, project A-24, arched against his restraints, the whites of his eyeballs showing in fear as Dr. Kinney approached him, syringe in  
hand. Squirting a few cc's for dramatic effect.

"Kimura, restrain him," Dr. Kinney instructed her nurse, a bio-synthetic mutant. One of the first, and in Dr. Kinney's experiment, one of the last. Hopefully.

Kimura took hold of the man's arm and hefted it into Dr. Kinney's reach. In the nurse's invulnerable hands, the man could not budge, making her a prime choice for  
'injection clamping', as Dr. Kinney referred to it.

"There, there." Dr. Kinney's voice was soft and soothing as she injected liquid death into the man's shoulder. "You should be proud…society gave you a second chance after all."

The subject through back his head, biting his gag as he convulsed.

"Oh, dear—allergic reaction." Dr. Kinney stepped back; veins were coursing up the man's neck, fast. "I'm afraid this may be messy, Kimura…"

Moments later, there were several sickening _pops_, and Kimura released the man's flesh, disgusted. Dr. Kinney reached over and slid the eyelids shut over what remained of his face.

"Most unfortunate. I was really hoping this one would work out…sheet, Kimura. I'm pronouncing him dead."

A few minutes later, Kimura left the room, indifferent to what had just occurred. She'd been programmed (with a brain microchip) to act in the facility's best interests,  
no matter what happened.

Dr. Kinney paused, her hand on the light switch. Leaving the sheeted body for janitorial to deal with, to prepare for the next round—organ harvesting and biosynthetic  
replication (or cloning).

She hesitated. Then she mouthed the two most dangerous words in the world.

"I'm sorry."

**…**

**Now.**

_Click, click, click…zip, thump, zip, thump._ The boots hit the floor and Laura's toes arched into the carpet, enjoying the cushiony feel. She sighed, hung up her pea coat on the  
knob, then moved into the kitchen, and touched the 'play' button on her answering machine (having noticed the light was blinking.

"You have…five…new messages," the machine told her.

"_**Beep!**_

_This is Cecilia Reyes, M.D., director of departments, please give me a call at—" _Skip.

"_**Beep!**_

_This is a message for…_Laura…Kinney…_please call 1-800—" _Skip.

"_**Beep!**_

_Laura? Honey? Is—is this your machine? Please give me a call…we shouldn't let something as petty as genes get between us—you can choose your friends, but not your  
family—and family is the one thing that—" _

Skip, definitely.

"_**Beep!**_

_Westcoast bank solutions LTD. calling for a Ms. Laura—" _Skip. Not in the mood.

"_**Beep!**_

"_Dr. Kinney? I was given this number by director Shaw's secretary, after previous attempts to contact you failed. I need to speak with you regarding a security issue. Please give  
me a call at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, you should know the number." _Pause—this one had been calling recently; she usually heard him out, because she liked his voice. She  
never called back though.

Laura pressed the rewind button so the tape would record over itself. She preferred to keep a ridiculously old device with actual cassette tapes, allowing her the security of  
knowing no body could tap into her voicemail account.

She folded her arms and looked at the answering machine. One little box—so powerful—it could record secrets that would rip the world apart, split it down the very core. If she  
just got drunk and whispered to it all night.

She _had_ done it already.

Laura thought of the tapes that only _she_ knew about—under a floorboard in a distant building. Brand-new—sure not to be demolished or renovated anytime soon. Hopefully she'd  
be dead by the time those tapes got out.

**…**

**Before. **

In the Jacuzzi tub, finally relaxing in hot water. And bubbles. Washing dead cells out of her hair—not _her_ dead cells, the cells of yet another failed potential which had literally  
blown up in her face from too much internal pressure.

Laura squirted shampoo into her palm. Perfumed. Normally she didn't like scented soaps due to her mutation of enhanced olfactory senses; however, _anything _was  
better than the current smell of her hair.

And the formaldehyde scent that lingered in her nostrils. Even in death her test subjects were not allowed to rest in piece. Rest in _pieces,_ perhaps.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

* * *

**Before.**

"Report," Cecilia Reyes, M.D., said, looking sternly at her two leading researchers, Dr. Laura Kinney, and Dr. Quentin Quire. "Otherwise put—you have five minutes to  
convince me the remaining projects shouldn't just be thrown in the chambers. I've half a mind to demote you both to janitorial."

"My project, X-20, is still alive," Dr. Kinney said quickly. "For the fiftieth consecutive day. His cells have accepted the cure, and he is on his way to recovery. I'd say…if a  
month went by, without signs..."

Cecilia Reyes gave the woman—girl, really—a sharp look. She'd trained this girl herself—Laura Kinney possessed a cold, brilliant mind, and had graduated top of her  
class. Despite her harsh words, she wasn't surprised that she _would_ have results where all others had failed.

"15N also shows promise," Quire said, showing signs of annoyance. He didn't like the set-up; two females plus a student-teacher relationship. _He_ knew what was at  
stake, even if Kinney didn't.

"How long until you can show me a complete success?"

"Three weeks," Dr. Kinney said firmly.

**…**

**Before **

"The project is yours, Kinney," Dr. Reyes said, impressed. She'd just shaken hands with—and had a small conversation—with Dr. Kinney's previous project, a man who had  
been on the brink of death due to a incurable disease (under serious wraps by S.H.I.E.L.D. order). Dr. Kinney had succeeded in reconstructing the man's DNA (painfully) with  
a sample taken from a S.H.I.E.L.D. officer with regeneration capabilities.

"You've definitely proven your knowledge in the field. Congratulations."

**Before.**

Dr. Kinney pressed her fingers to the glass of the window, looking through it at the embryos twined against each other in the synthetic amniotic fluid. One occasionally wiggled  
its tail in an almost saucy fashion.

She noted the developments. Leg buds, arm buds, thickening of umbilical cord. Forebrain, midbrain and hindbrain developing quite nicely. She wondered what who the DNA donors  
had been—there had been many indeed. Dr. Kinney had spent three months simply isolating the DNA from the samples provided for the assignment. They had certainly wanted to  
get the most bang for their buck from this expensive project.

Here it was, the expensive cocktail. Dr. Kinney slipped a small cylinder device down from her sleeve. With a small hole on the end. Her thumb made to touch the top as she aimed it  
at the embryo. The evidence she needed that would shovel the dirt on this mass grave. She'd been with it before—but this—this wasn't about curing people, about second chances.

This was about creating monsters.

"Hrrk—" Dr. Kinney froze.

_**What have we here? **_Quire. In her head.

She couldn't even beg.

The camera fell to the floor.

**…**

**Now. **

"Is there a Dr. Laura Kinney here?"

The voice from her answering machine. She leaned slightly to the side in her chair, trying to peer around the doorframe. She saw a man about her age, maybe a bit older, with a  
S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, and a weapon in his holster—although _that_ was hardly necessary with the highly-trained officers.

Laura sometimes wondered what her life would have been like if she had pursued Law Enforcement instead of this. Probably a hell of a lot better.

"And you are?" Laura's snooty secretary asked. A girl named Megan Gwynn, with butterfly wings and pink hair. Quite irritating, at times.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. Red Guard," the man said, showing the secretary a badge. "It's pretty important."

"She's not in. Can I take a message?" Megan answered promptly.

"No, no, you can't. I know she's in. This is a matter of security."

"Well, she's not—_hey!_" Laura heard Megan's wings fluttering angrily as feet headed for her door. She sprung out of her chair and crouched behind her desk desperately,  
hoping to avoid this.

"Desks don't have high-heels," the S.H.I.E.L.D. officer said dryly.

Laura peered over the edge of her desk, disgruntled. "I dropped an earring."

"You're not wearing any." The man folded his arms. _Crrik, _his gear shifting. A reminder that he was armed and dangerous, and Dr. Kinney was not.

"I didn't say it was mine," Laura said sourly. She stood up. "What do you want?"

"Close the door, please," the man said to the secretary. Laura nodded; Megan did as asked with a grumpy expression (although she knew she would eavesdrop and then gossip  
about whatever she'd heard—Laura liked to stage personal phone calls to see how much the girl would buy).

"Alright. It's been brought to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention that security in this facility might have been compromised."

Dr. Kinney's eyes narrowed. "Who—"

The man held up a hand. "No suspects. There is an enormous risk of a security leak. It could cause unimaginable consequences if any of this information is circulated. Your department  
is under investigation."

Laura remained silent. She doubted he even _knew_ what was done at this center for a cover-up story, let alone what its real purpose was.

Or just how close he was sitting to the Real Purpose.

He was just another Agent, fed information on a need-to-know basis.

He looked cold and distant. Quite untouchable. In another universe from her twisted, slimy one that was beyond repair.

"You can't. Interference will hinder my work," Dr. Kinney said patiently. "If you have any questions about my ethics, I will forward you to my director. Cecilia Reyes, M.D. If you hang on a  
second, I've got a card somewhere."

"No." _Crrik. _"You can't just pass this on to your boss anymore. Cecilia Reyes was found dead at twenty-two-fifty-seven last night."

Laura's eyes widened. _Blink, blink. _

"How?"

"None of your business." The man pointed at a chair. "Can I sit down?"

"No."

He sat down anyways, folding his hands between his knees and giving her a direct look. "Dr. Kinney…there's something really rotten going on in here. I've never seen anyone try to _hide_ from  
a law enforcement officer like you just did."

Laura looked away. "I don't like the law, okay? I'd call you a tampon if I wasn't working on a crucial section of work just now. I can't afford to be arrested."

Tampon was the crude term for 'Red Guard'.

The man raised his eyebrow. "Huh."

An awkward silence. Laura tapped her fingers on the desk. "You know I won't let you bring your big clumsy men in here with their guns and surveillance equipment. We have delicate  
equipment." Laura's mind raced for excuses.

She couldn't get caught up in this. And she was so very tangled up now.

"I'll keep that in mind. You're under investigation whether you like it or not. It would look better for you and your partner if you comply."

_Partner._ The word was like a slap in the face, even though it was not in the context that leapt to mind. Laura's eyes almost stung, but she kept a neutral expression.

The man leaned forward, extended his hand. "I'm Agent Keller, by the way."

Laura didn't meet his handshake.

"It would be polite," he added.

She rolled her eyes, then offered her hand, her right hand. Without the damn ring that suffocated her like a rope around her neck.

"Nice to meet you. I know it seems annoying…I promise you, I'll make sure none of this gets in your way, alright, Dr. Kinney?"

"Sure." Laura wasn't too worried about that—there was no way he could know about what was really going on. Not when…

She found it refreshing to be called Dr. Kinney again.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

* * *

"This is the integration facility," Laura said, taking Agent Keller on a tour through the base. "Successful projects are kept in this sector."

Agent Keller glanced into a cell, his forehead wrinkling. There was a somewhat older man curled on the floor with a beard and longer hair; he was clean,  
though. Laura had ordered an emergency maintenance procedure—which Quire had approved, since it was important that they seem to be fulfilling standards.

The Agent still seemed to be struggling with the ethics of the situation.

"He's a terrorist," Laura said, the blanket word for all the test subjects. "He was caught committing atrocities. He was dying of strain 23. Now he's helping  
mutant—and human—kind, instead of harming it. And he might get a second chance." Yeah, right. But Agent Keller nodded and moved on, buying it completely.

Laura showed him a few more rooms. The operating room—the laboratory, where microscopy was done. She didn't show him the inner Labs.

Occasionally, Agent Keller made notes to himself, and sent messages with a wireless radio. Laura's eyes lingered on the device—she imagined the power such  
a device would give her. The Agent caught her looking once and watched her warily for a while after.

Finally the 'tour' was finished, and Laura was shaking the Agent's hand.

Goodbye, hopefully good riddance.

"I'll be back tomorrow with surveillance equipment to install." Agent Keller's stance adjusted slightly. "All in all, you seem to be running a tight facility  
here. May I ask what your powers are?"

This question caught Laura off-guard. "Oh, um. I have several."

"Anything in the range of telepathy?"

"No." Laura preferred not to divulge information of the sort; it gave her an advantage. But the Agent was waiting.

"Enhanced hearing." She curled her lip unconsciously, in annoyance that he was dragging this information out of her.

"Oh, good. You can keep your ear to the ground a little then, too," the Agent said. He felt bad, seeing that Dr. Kinney's expression was once again strained. He'd thought  
they'd been on neutral terms.

"Mmm." Laura pursed her lips. "Should I show you the door, or has S.H.I.E.L.D. taught you to recognize the structures all on your own?"

Agent Keller blinked, then grinned a little. "Nah, I've got it." He gave her a sort of half-salute and left, closing the door behind himself.

Laura sat down at the desk and held her face in her hands.

**…**

"This _is_ bad news, isn't it?" Quire asked, sitting at the counter. "Quite bad. I'm not at all pleased. We'll have to do better." He stared at Laura over his glasses.

"Mmm." Laura tried to pretend to read.

"Look at me when I talk to you, bitch!" Quire snapped, grabbing her chin and jerking it upwards. "It's _your_ fault we're in this mess to begin with. If you hadn't  
sent that goddamn message—what the hell is wrong with you?!"

Laura could only watch, because he was holding her speech center and motor cortex hostage. In her brain.

"You _know_ I can stop you! Why don't you ever _learn?!_"

Laura remained silent.

"I can't believe they let you graduate that school. You're dumb. You're really, really dumb." He raised his eyebrows. "Laura, dearest, if you don't deal with this Agent and make  
him go away…I'll revert them to primal life forms. Or maybe _you_ instead, put the blood on your hands."

Laura's eyes widened, her first reaction. Quire shook his head and pushed her away from him so she hit the wall. Toppled to the floor like a bowling pin.

"If he gets anywhere _near_ the inner Labs, you'll all die. I hope you understand that." Quire gave her a once-over. "It'd be a shame to kill something so perfect. I'll say that for  
you—you might not be much in the upper story, but at least you've got a pretty face, huh?"

Laura stared at him, her teeth grinding together with words she couldn't say.

"Get to it, wifey," Quire snapped. She got to her feet jerkily and marched into the bathroom, according to his will.

**…**

"I'm hard-pressed to criticize your operations, Dr. Kinney," Agent Keller said, making another inspection. "I think this investigation will be over soon—I'd give it a week or  
two. You haven't told anyone about it, right?"

"No." Laura looked dully at her clipboard.

Agent Keller sat down at a computer terminal and booted up the programs used by security to search for digital leaks. He had already done this every day for about two weeks, without a trace.

"You got coffee or anything?" he asked. It was 1 AM. Laura noted light bags under his eyes.

"You don't want ours. Tastes like watered down diarrhea."

Agent Keller glanced at her, amused. "I need caffeine. God, you'd think _researchers _would have proper coffee…"

"Ah-heh." Laura sat, straight-backed in the other chair, a good distance away. She had to be present for the whole tour. Both Agent Keller and Quire demanded this.

"Keep me awake then."

Laura looked skeptical.

"Tell me something about yourself," Agent Keller added. "I'm sure you don't _live_ here. Have any hobbies?"

"No. Agent Keller—I would prefer not to talk about myself."

"Everyone likes talking about themselves," the Agent said, leaning his cheek on his elbow. "That's how you make friends."

"I don't want to be your friend," Laura said, then realized it sounded quite harsh. Harsher than she'd intended. "I mean—I'd rather keep a strictly business relationship, alright?"

"Right." Agent Keller looked at the screen, bored. "You're about as much fun as a stiff corpse," he added, his voice more of a mumble.

"Excuse me?" Laura couldn't believe it.

"Er…I didn't mean for you to hear that." Agent Keller said, having forgotten about her enhanced senses.

Laura's mood darkened, and she stood up. "I don't need to hear that I rank below a _corpse,_ Agent Keller. I already have enough on my plate. I made a simple request to keep this  
professional, and you insulted my integrity." _Dumb _burnt in her mind, behind her eyelids.

"I'm sorry."

An awkward silence.

"It's alright." Laura sat back down and smoothed out her skirt for something to do.

"I really didn't mean for you to hear."

"That doesn't make it _better_," Laura said, her nose wrinkled.

Agent Keller looked down. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."

"Okay."

Silence.

"I'm not boring." Laura said it out of annoyance. Now it was bothering her—she, who had been the center of attention at her school—brilliant, shining promise in a hot package  
with a snappy attitude—the girl everyone wanted to date or be friends with—being labeled _boring_. Like some nerd who had never lived outside the lab. Was this what Quire had reduced her to?

Agent Keller looked at her. "Oh yeah?"

"Uh huh." She was silent for a while. "I can play the violin."

"Huh," Agent Keller said, regarding her. "I wouldn't have put you down for the musical type. You seem really, uh, reserved."

"I see." Laura sucked her tongue. "You're not all that great yourself, you know. You're over-authoritive. It's like the uniform wears _you. _Every time you speak I picture a face on your  
big shiny badge for the words to come out, 'cause they couldn't possibly be coming from something _alive._" She couldn't believe she'd just said that—what she'd been _thinking._

She hadn't done that for so long.

Agent Keller stared at her, and folded his arms.

"_I _think you over-starched your lab coat and got yourself by accident," he said.

Laura blinked. "I don't wear it _all_ the time," she said angrily.

"Yeah, right." Agent Keller leaned back in his chair. "And you wear your bun way too tight. I bet you stabbed yourself in the skull with the holder-thing and just don't want to admit it."

Laura glared at him. "At least it's better than walking around with a mirror and a comb in my pocket."

Agent Keller's eyebrows shot up. "What are you saying?"

"That you look like a pineapple," Laura said meanly.

"…" the Agent held up his hands. "Jesus, okay. You're a mouthy little thing, you know?" A glint caught Laura's eye—a band on his finger.

"You're married?" she asked, surprised. Along the lines of _who would want __**you**__?!_

"Uh, yeah." He didn't seem too enthusiastic about it.

"Congratulations," Laura said.

"Thanks." He paused. "I noticed you've got a ring yourself."

"Yes." Laura's jaws snapped shut on the _S._

"Anyone I know?" he asked.

"Dr. Quire," Laura said quietly. Now she really didn't want to continue this conversation—there was no way she could escape it without him realizing something was up,  
though. Quire wanted _everything _to seem normal—no rough spots, nothing. She figured letting on that he was abusive—psychotic—murderous—might cause a spot of trouble.

"Really?" Agent Keller asked. "So Miss Professional had herself an office romance, huh?"

Laura got stuck on her answer. "It's—uh—um—"

"Relax, I'm teasing you." The Agent grinned. "Got any kids?"

Laura nodded, her heart still in her chest. It felt like she was having a heart attack, although that was impossible with her physiology.

"Oh really? You look pretty young—how old are they?"

Laura swallowed. "One."

"Same age? Twins?" he guessed.

"Y-yes."

"Huh." He peered at her. "How old did you say you were?"

"I didn't," Laura said, hoping that would be enough.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't know you're touchy about age." Agent Keller looked at the monitor again.

"Eighteen," Laura said after a moment.

Silence.

"But…you're a doctor," Agent Keller said. "You couldn't do that in that much time…and…you…how can you have kids a year old already?"

"It's complicated." Laura looked away. "My training was a partial telepathic upload by the Stepford Cuckoos."

"Huh. That's pretty special. Very few people have been granted that honor." Agent Keller studied her, obviously still skeptical. About the…

"Is it done?" Laura asked, indicating the monitor. Indicating _she_ was done with the line of conversation.

"Almost." Agent Keller raised his eyebrows. "And I thought _I_ was hasty…getting married at eighteen…seems like I'm a bit behind on the times."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Laura said quietly.

A few more moments, and Agent Keller moved the mouse and clicked; the scan was done. "God, I can finally go home," he groaned.

Laura was silent.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

* * *

Laura touched her fingers to the glass, watching the child inside. After a few moments she would rotate to the other window and view the other, almost  
identical child. A girl, and a boy, appearing to be about three years old. Kept separate, in terrarium-like heat. White-tiled cells.

Her babies—literally. Not only had she carried them for nine months—Quire revealed they had been harvested from her for this experiment. Eggs. Back when  
he'd first started to control her. She didn't even remember. He must have planned it all from the start, _always _had his eye on her, to grow the Projects.

There was no mutant female with a more ideal physiology.

She'd been more controlled than she'd thought. Quire loved to point it out to her—how inferior she was, unable to guard her mind.

The children—the project, of course—was kept in the inner Labs, somewhere no Agent would ever be allowed to venture. The only reason Quire hadn't messed  
with Agent Keller yet was for fear of alerting S.H.I.E.L.D. psychics.

Because he wasn't doing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s work anymore.

Laura thought, tight-lipped, about the things that went on in the inner Labs. Something that had been _her_ domain before—where she conducted experiments,  
for the 'greater good'. With anesthesia for most patients.

Then Quire had begun taking over—out-ruling these little humanities. And then had come the drugs…Kick. Her laboratory had become _his,_ and he'd begun growing  
some sort of super-strong bacteria. And putting it in inhalers.

And then…he'd taken over the project. Her life, too.

Laura had nothing left, literally. She couldn't go home to get away from him anymore. He knew what she was _thinking,_ and he changed her _thoughts_ when he didn't like them.

He was on the drug half the time, and it made him extremely violent.

At those times—even though _they _had a healing factor, like herself—Laura was glad the two infants were in cells at the facility. Even though they weren't _really _any safer there.

An infant looked up, and Laura whirled away, afraid of being seen. She headed for her office, wiping away suspicious moisture from her eyes. She hated _crying_—it was  
so weak, and just seemed to line up with what Quire thought of her. She promised herself she'd beat him someday.

Someday.

**…**

_**Eat.**_ Quire's mental command, at dinner. With colleagues. People had started to ask why they were being such shut-ins (mostly during the five months when Laura was carrying  
the project to term), so he'd taken the liberty of arranging invitations to elaborate dinner parties.

Laura loaded her fork and stabbed it into her mouth.

_**Don't make it robotic. **_Quire was talking to an old classmate of his, and laughing. She hated his laugh, it made the hackles on the back of her neck stand straight up.

"And what have _you_ been up to, my dear?" One of her mentors, Dr. McCoy. A mutant with larger than normal limbs, and enhanced durability. Brilliant bio-geneticist. Working for  
Stark industries now. He'd always been proud of Laura for gaining her post with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical division.

_**You've been working on strain 49. You're almost done. It's been a long, hard road but very rewarding. **_Laura heard the words in her head a moment before they came  
out of her mouth. Like they were hers.

Dr. McCoy nodded and asked more questions.

It was so frustrating, that Quire didn't even show signs of concentration. He thought over 10 million thoughts per second—he could control her every body function _and_ maintain  
a conversation about a specific chromosome he was supposedly working with.

Not only that, but he controlled the entire lab staff. A bomb could go off in the facility and the people wouldn't react, unless he allowed them to.

Laura wondered sometimes why he bothered to get together with people like this. Make her dress up, dress himself up, parade her and hold a puppet show. It was sick and cruel,  
to make her sit at a table with people who could help if she could get the words out—to allow her to be aware of this—and yet control her so carefully that even her facial  
expressions were bright and happy. So _natural. _

She wasn't hungry anymore, but she couldn't stop the fork from bringing food to her mouth. She was being force-fed, like usual.

Yes, Quire could stage all this in his mind—he could simply create memories for people of having attended. But maybe a part of him—the tiny fraction of him that was human—needed the contact.

He made everyone like him, unlike before.

**…**

"It's almost done, isn't it?" Quire asked from the sofa.

Laura nodded, in the kitchen. Still in her dinner dress. Frilly, pink, something she wouldn't normally wear. It wasn't the color or style she liked.

"So the Agent's going away, clueless. God, they suck so bad…" Quire grinned. "You can pat yourself on the back. I didn't even have to redirect you, once. Guess I might start  
paying more attention to the tots than your brain, huh?"

Laura poured herself a glass of juice.

"When's the last night?"

"Tomorrow." Laura's voice was robotic. "He'll be gone tomorrow, and then you can stop worrying, Quire." She sipped the orange juice; her magenta lipstick left marks on  
the rim. Not her either. She liked red.

"Quentin!" the young man snapped. "I said, call me Quentin! It's weird—we're married, and we've known each other for years, and you _still_ won't use my first name! God,  
what the hell is wrong with you!"

Quire wasn't on Kick tonight. His eyes were clear.

"I don't know," Laura said. She headed for the library, wanting to read.

**…**

A little while later, Quire entered the library, and his eyes weren't clear anymore. They were red and hazy, and he was violent. And he wanted something—something he didn't  
know how to get normally—but with a mind like his, whatever he wanted could be his.

**…**

"Evening, Dr. Kinney," Agent Keller said, opening on her office door suddenly (although he had knocked several times).

Laura's head snapped up. "Oh—hello."

"Hi." He paused, feeling like he'd interrupted something. "Uh—should I come back in a few minutes?" He wasn't sure what—she was decent, her eyes were dry, there was no phone  
at her ear, no laptop open in front of her, no people speaking to her.

She'd been sitting—alone—with just one lamp on, till he'd opened her door.

"No. Now's fine." Laura cleared her throat and got to her feet. "I'd like to be finished with this, frankly. It's hard to research in peace with a walking uniform looking over your shoulder at every move."

"I'm sure." Agent Keller stepped aside and let her pass.

**…**

"Well—that's a wrap," he said, about three hours later as he turned off the computer. "I declare your laboratories officially bug-free, Dr. Kinney. You can wait to happy dance till I'm gone." He grinned at her.

"A happy dance would hardly express the amount of happiness you leaving causes me," Laura said, wrinkling her nose.

"Oho." Agent Keller rubbed his arm. "Uh—this is—well, do you want to stay in touch?"

"I thought you cleared the department."

"I didn't mean for work." Agent Keller grinned. "Never had a friend before?"

"…" Laura shook her head. "That's not a good idea. That's a really bad idea. I'm sorry, but I can't be friends with you. I told you—business."

The Agent looked surprised. "But—"

Laura stood up. "No. Goodbye, Agent Keller. It was nice to meet you." She held out her hand as an intermediate offer. They couldn't be friends, but they could part on civil terms.

"Julian."

Silence.

"What?" she finally asked.

"My name's Julian. I should've told you that right away—I think I gave you a bad impression. Look…I know I come off as a bit of an asshole sometimes…can we just start over?"

"You don't understand. I can't," Laura said. Her voice was almost pleading and she was disgusted. "Just leave please. Nothing negative between us, okay?"

"Well, there kinda is, if you don't want to talk to me again," Agent Keller said, sounding offended. "Stuck-up of you, if you ask me."

Laura looked down. "Please."

"Alright." He got up, shook her hand. "Nice to meet you too, Dr. Kinney. I'm sure you'll, uh, find that S.H.I.E.L.D. is very proud to have you on their team."

And then he was gone, finally.


	5. Chapter 5

**-5-**

* * *

Laura held her face in her hands. After another uncomfortable night with Quire, he had declared the experimentation and training on the project would begin soon. Apparently, he wasn't  
going to wait until they were ten—the original outlines of the Synthesis project. Five years would be enough, in physiology.

The twins grew at twice normal rate—meaning this would be less than a year and a half away.

**…**

About six months later, Megan yelled to Laura that she had a call on Line 2.

Laura's fingers hovered over the button. All her calls were usually directed to Quire, now, as he was the head of departments now. Should she answer this? What if it were a trick?

_Don't be silly._ Laura knew he was away in a conference, for three days. He had warned her that if she tried anything while he was gone, he would make her execute the project herself.

Same old threat.

Cannibalism.

Laura didn't want that.

She pressed the button and picked up the phone.

"Dr. Kinney."

"Hey, Dr. Kinney, it's Agent Keller. I don't know if you remember me…"

"Yes." Laura's grip tightened on the phone. Why was he calling?

"Good. I need your help."

Laura listened as he rattled off a case to her, some mystery he was having trouble with. He said he needed someone he could trust to examine the body—someone with as much  
knowledge as Laura. It was a real mystery, he said.

"I can't. I have prior obligations." Laura was firm.

"Please…I really need your help. I've got to track this guy down—my boss is breathing down my neck—it'd be a big favor to me. I'd owe _you _one."

Laura paused. A favor? Oh, she could use one, use one very badly. An enormous favor—out Quire for what he was.

It wouldn't work, she knew. But it suddenly occurred to her—Quire was afraid of S.H.I.E.L.D., afraid of its mass telepaths. Of the five Stepford Cuckoos. Could she—was there  
a chance she and the twins could escape?

"You'll owe me a favor, then," she said.

"Deal," Agent Keller said easily.

**…**

Laura was in a morgue, in the S.H.I.E.L.D. building, her nostrils full of decaying bodies. It was cold.

"Hey, Dr. Kinney," Agent Keller said. He was standing beside one body stretched out on a gurney.

_Click! _The Morgue door swung shut behind her, and she jumped.

"Oops—sorry, I'm telekinetic," he said. "Forget to tell people that sometimes."

Laura's eyes widened. "Are you telepathic, too?" she asked, barely daring to hope.

" No ma'am, just the one gift," he grinned. "Not enough for you?"

"Er—" Laura eyed the body. Wilson Fisk. Kingpin. Her eyes boggled slightly.

"Yeah. Never thought I'd see _him_ in here," Agent Keller said. He pulled the sheet back. "Nobody can find _any_ wounds. His blood and every other kind of bodily fluid has been filtered…"

"Telepathic." Laura touched the corpse's forehead. "I need a scan to confirm, but I'm almost positive."

Agent Keller nodded, then raised the sheet back over the body with a thought. His action cast a weird, green glow in the morgue, over all the corpse drawers, and Laura shuddered involuntarily.

She was no stranger to death, but…

"I appreciate your help. Dr. Kinney. Thought of what you want for a favor yet?" he asked good-naturedly.

Laura swallowed. "I—" she paused. Tempted.

_No._ It was too good, too easy. What if this were a test? What if she wasn't even here, and it was all a trick by Quire?

"No." She tried to smile at him. "I should go now, you know how it is when you're in charge…things fall apart without you."

"Yeah." He guided the drawer back into the wall with a hand gesture.

Laura hesitated, shifting her weight on her heels. Curiosity battled with the urge to run. "You're in charge?" she asked finally.

He turned back to her with a slightly amused expression. "What do you think?"

"If you're on the Red guard, then no," Laura said. She knew that duty belonged to Sebastian Shaw—and his field commander, Agent James Howlett. She was familiar with this man and his  
achievements. Trying to figure out where _she_ fit into the picture.

Sarah, her maternal parent, had been a surrogate in the employ of S.H.I.E.L.D. Laura had never been told what this meant; she'd grown up in a facility, being trained to become the best  
mutant she could be. Her curiosity had led her into the field of genetics, mostly to find out if she and Howlett were linked; it had been impossible to obtain a sample of Howlett's DNA,  
therefore she could never prove her suspicion—that _she_ had been the first model of the project. The first stage.

"True." Agent Keller considered her. "I led the training squad, a couple of years ago. Under Agent Moonstar's watch."

"Oh." This meant nothing to Laura, having been trapped in the labs for the duration. He shrugged after a moment. "Wasn't a big deal. Just helped me get on the Red Guard…they had some  
people die so they had to scoop into the lower ranks for replacements. Why recruit clueless adults when you have a bunch of kids you've trained for five years?"

"Are you happy with your work?" Laura blurted.

Agent Keller blinked, and suddenly they were looking at each other in a new light—people who knew things they didn't want to, and who'd given up their lives 'for the greater good'.

In quotation marks.

There was no true answer to the question. Agent Keller's eyes did not waver, but Laura suddenly became aware of the security devices, tiny _humms _her senses had adapted to. She didn't  
need to look either. She lived on her toes too—with Quire—how stupid of her to think _here_ was any different.

"Yes," he said confidently. "What a stupid question."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I should go, I should really get going. E-mail me the scan results…"

"I don't have your address."

Laura reached into her jacket pocket and found a pen and a receipt. There were much more high-tech devices available for data recording nowadays with Stark Industries and Forge as  
researchers—nano devices for the ear that could selectively record and playback—and e-mail people—but Laura had shied away from these. She had enough tampering in her head already.

"Here. This is my laboratory address. I check it every evening."

"Should get it to you by tomorrow morning," Agent Keller said, putting the note into his chest pocket. "I'm putting a rush on it. The sooner this is figured out, the better. I appreciate your help, by the way."

"Don't mention it." Laura turned and hurried to the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **A reward for patience-dubble update! Woot!

* * *

**-6-**

* * *

Laura whipped her head around, suddenly aware of a familiar presence.

She was out—out, like the rare times she'd get dinner before going home—when Quire might be sleeping, and she had a viable excuse for being late. Like research. Those rare nights she crept  
away to a late-night bar and ordered fish and chips. And a drink or two. Laura couldn't get intoxicated, with her mutation—so she didn't even try.

It was better to be alert anyways.

She'd had more tonight, and—wonder of wonders, perhaps because her tolerance had grown lower and she was trying to relax with Quire thousands of miles away for a short period—was actually  
feeling a slight buzz.

The presence almost shocked her sober though.

_It isn't Quire. Calm down. _She couldn't smell Quire—she'd _know_ if he were here. Her neck would be prickling, her hands would shake. She ran her eyes over the dense packages of people and the clouds  
of smoke, but couldn't see anyone she knew. She shook her head in irritation—it was like her eardrum was tight.

_Snff._ She inhaled through her nose, something she tried to avoid in here, and was overwhelmed with sensory data. Further eyeballing over her shoulder finally pinpointed a figure at the bar, holding  
a drink and talking to a female companion.

Agent Keller. And his wife? Laura squinted at the pair, trying to discern if the woman was wearing a ring or not. She had long blond hair and a very made-up face. It was possible.

Oh, shit, he'd seen her—Laura turned back to her drink hurriedly, hoping he hadn't. She didn't want anyone to know she had been here.

Maybe he hadn't. Laura risked a glance and saw that he was no longer at the bar, having disappeared into the crowd. Presumably with the blond. Laura forced herself to relax, even ordered  
another drink. She refused to be paranoid.

**…**

"A-hah!"

Laura choked on her drink, and it burned through her nose. She'd been leaning on her elbows in her corner booth, lingering. In a few minutes, the bar would close and she would be forced to go  
back to her apartment, which reeked of Quire. She wanted to _relax._ Plot a way to destroy the facility and rescue the tiny, innocent projects. Stop thinking the same old ideas.

The unwanted Agent Keller had destroyed a perfectly good idea to disable the automatic doors in the inner Labs. Well, the beginning of an idea. All this he'd done by approaching her.

She blinked up at him angrily. "Can I help you?"

He stood over her, drink in hand. "Depends," he said, arching his eyebrows. "Is there a reason why you look like you're going to bite my head off right now?"

Laura forced her face to relax, be neutral. Harder with alcohol. "No. I was thinking about…a complicated gene structure I'm researching…and you interrupted me."

She expected an 'I'm sorry', 'I'll just be leaving now'.

Instead he slipped into the seat opposite and squinted at her. "Yeah, right. You're hammered. There's no way you could be thinking about genes as anything more than spaghetti twirlies right now."

"!" Laura's eyes snapped open indignantly. "What—"

"I've been watching you all night. You've had like twenty shots, miss ma'am."

Laura flushed. "I have a mutation that makes me resistant to alcohol."

"Uh huh." Agent Keller grinned. "Your liver called…it quits!"

Laura glared at him. "Please leave…I want to be alone with the free time I have. If you must bother me…do it when I'm being _paid._"

Agent Keller raised his eyebrows. Looked at the table top. Silence.

"Okay, then. Thought you said it wasn't personal."

Laura looked away.

"I only came over because, you know, what you said," he mumbled. "About being happy."

They both looked up.

"You want the honest-to-god truth?" he asked.

Laura nodded earnestly, realizing she was a bit drunker than she had initially thought. She felt strong vertigo with the motion.

"I couldn't be more miserable." He held up his hand, the one with the wedding ring; with the other he pulled it off. The ring dropped to the table and revolved with a metallic sound. "Sof…Sofia was  
with me. We had two months, then it all went to hell. The introductory training ended and they threw us in the field. And…well, let's say I got a little closer to her insides than I wanted to be."

Laura blinked. "Is she…?"

"Dead? Yeah. Toasted. Blown up. Trying to cover _me_, too, if anything could make me feel worse."

"Oh." Laura stared, her face frozen in a kind of grimace, her nose wrinkled.

Agent Keller grinned. "You look funny when you do that."

"I didn't mean to…" Laura touched her forehead. Her lips were a bit numb and the room span slightly.

"It was two years ago. I'll live." He paused, concerned at her expression. You okay?" he asked as he leaned over the table. Put a hand on her shoulder.

"Yes. Fine." Laura stiffened; he retracted his hand.

"I've seen a lot of shit that I didn't need to see. Between two drunk people…who won't remember this in the morning…S.H.I.E.L.D.'s a lie. There's no greater good, Laura…oops, can I call  
you that? Is that even your name?"

Laura smiled slightly, despite herself.

"Only for now." She paused. So he was drunk too. She couldn't really tell at the moment. She should send him away, but she suddenly didn't _want_ to.

"Sweet." Agent Keller leaned his chin on his hand. "If I remember right…if I know you, and I think I do…a bit…you're not happy either, are you?"

Laura looked at the table. "No," she said. The first time in about four years she'd had a choice in her answer to that sort of question.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. "I'm not, like, a therapist, or anything, but sometimes it helps to talk. You know what I mean?"

"Mmm." Laura pressed her lips together. "I'd rather not."

Agent Keller frowned, but seemed to accept this. Then he gave her an odd look. "You know…I just thought of something. No, wait, listen…it kind of goes along with what I said. About how  
it helps to talk. Just hear me out." He held up his hand, although she hadn't interrupted him. "I've…and keep in mind, I know you're all about being professional…and married and stuff…and  
I've been pretty damn good about respecting that. But…I've kinda had the hots for you since I caught you trying to hide from me in your office."

Laura blinked. "I wasn't hiding," she said, picking the easiest point of the sentence to deal with first.

"It wasn't a bad thing." He grinned. "I'm not complaining. You were all bent over…and I'm a TnA man."

"Um." Laura leaned back in her seat. She was aware that she needed to leave _now_—Agent Keller was dangerous. Nothing could be more dangerous than what he was suggesting, in some  
sense—playing with Quire's toys. And was he even asking? Besides—even though Agent Keller was fairly good looking—Laura had never thought of him in that way; she had little time to  
think about that sort of thing when she had the two projects depending on her.

"Did I say too much?" he asked, his eyes wide. "Forget it. Sorry. Mixed signals, or lines crossing, or something."

Laura sighed. "I…Agent, it's not—"

"Julian."

"I can't. First, I am _married._ Second, I have enormous responsibilities of which you have no comprehension. Be it sufficient for me to say that what you are proposing is not an option."

"I wasn't proposing nothing." He blinked at _her_, now. "Like I said. Sorry."

"Alright." Laura sat upright, feeling awkward, even through the cloud. Mostly because she _knew_ she would remember this—all of this. In the old days—when she'd had a life—she'd had  
a few nights she regretted, which she couldn't blot from her memories. "I should go."

"You're always going…" he said.

"Yes. I'm quite busy." She got up and took a step in the direction of the bar, to pay her bill. And go, do the sensible thing.

He caught her hand as she passed him and pulled her down onto his lap—a smooth motion. Laura would have responded by pinning his hand against her thigh and swinging him over  
her torso (in the defense moves programmed into her during ages five to twelve), but there was a corresponding rush of vertigo and she was unable to center herself enough. And then  
she really didn't want to—it felt too good, even though she knew what she _should_ be doing. His fingers were in her hair, pulling out the pin he'd made fun of (she was ashamed to admit  
it was the same one) and shaking the mass of protein free. She wove her fingers into his—for balance, of course—feeling the softer roots in comparison to the gelled areas.

He was doing other things too—she was being kissed, quite soundly—she'd forgotten that it could be _nice_—and held—and he wasn't bony, like Quire—his hand was sliding up her  
skirt, very soft and caressing—

Laura bounced to her feet, the room spinning. "I can't."

The Agent threw back his head momentarily and swore under his breath.

"Please." He moved his hands up to her waist. "Just tonight—I swear. Just us." He meant, of course, that he wouldn't tell anybody. Laura heard this—but interpreted it in another way.

_Just us—no Quire. _

She bit her lip.

**…**

Aftermath. Laura was still slightly drunk, and would be until she slept. Silk sheets all around her, breathing in the dark to her right. Not Quire's shallow breathing though. A more distinctive  
breathing pattern, someone who had body mass and _used _it—developed lungs.

"Huh."

Laura's eyes opened lazily. A hand slid up her side.

"You can't have kids. You don't…your body didn't," he said, his voice a little raspy. His hand was on her lower stomach, presumably feeling for scars. Laura was surprised he remembered.

"It's my mutation."

A confused silence. "Huh?" he asked.

"Regeneration."

"Ohhh," he said, after a moment. Then…"Are they Quire's?"

Laura paused. "No."

Silence. Surprise? Relief? Disappointment? She let herself fall asleep to the soothing rhythm of breathing.


	7. Chapter 7

**-7-  


* * *

**

Laura woke up to the same sound—breathing—but now it wasn't soothing. She bolted up, clutching the blankets against herself in a defensive shield. No, no…this was _all _wrong…she was terrified.

She'd done something terrible. Quire would kill her for this, and the projects. Or something much worse. She guessed she'd lose the little periods of freedom she had left. Never again would there be  
an opportunity to escape.

Agent Keller opened his eyes slightly, his pupils constricted. The light coming through the curtains was obviously causing him pain.

"Where am I?" he groaned.

"You have to go," Laura said, getting up. "Now." She hurried to the closet—the giant walk-in closet, filled with Quire's clothes, and the clothes he'd picked for her, and took a housecoat off one of the  
hangers. Shrugged it on and tied the knot tightly.

Agent Keller was still lying in the bed, looking confused. He rubbed his eye. "Shit," he said after a moment, his voice hoarse. "Guess I had a bit too much to drink…"

Laura threw his shirt at him. "Get dressed."

He looked at it, then raised himself to his elbows.

"I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter." Laura looked around the room, picking clothes up as she spotted them. Socks, jeans, her skirt…

"Yes it does. You—you wanted to keep everything professional and I—"

"It's too late now." Laura picked up his boxers, then carried the pile over to him and dumped it in his blanket-covered lap. "Please…the sooner you are gone, the better, for all of us."

"Shit—" the Agent suddenly paled. "Your husband—"

Laura nodded.

He began pulling on his undershirt, getting it inside out the first time and looking frustrated. Laura glanced at the clock—she should be at the lab in two hours. She couldn't afford to  
break her routine _now_, if there was to be any chance of concealing this from Quire.

**…**

"I'm really, really sorry." At the door. He was pulling on his jacket while watching her. Laura bit her lip.

"Stop it. Just go. Don't _ever_ tell anyone."

Agent Keller shook his head. "Uh-uh." He hesitated. "I'm—um—I'm sorry, too, if I told you…things you didn't need to hear. I get talkative when I'm drunk, and the last few years have  
been a bit rough for me."

"It's alright." Laura brushed her hair behind her ear. "I understand."

Agent Keller stopped, his hand on the doorknob. Watched her for a moment. Something about her tone. "Does Quire treat you well?"

Laura teetered, then met his eyes. That was his answer.

"What does he do to you?" His hand let go of the knob.

"Please, you need to go." Laura hesitated. "It's not safe for you to be here."

"Dr. Kinney—Laura—_what does he do to you?_" Agent Keller wasn't going to leave now, this much was obvious.

"I c-can't tell you," Laura stammered as he touched her shoulder. Quire would smell this on her—this treachery. Betrayal. She was pure fear—she wondered if even now he was aware  
of what was happening. She knew it was impossible—he was thousands of miles away, in Hong Kong. He couldn't cover such a range.

Fear wasn't logical though.

Agent Keller glared at her.

"Tell me, or I'll take you in for questioning," he said firmly.

Laura was vaguely irritated by this threat. "That would hardly be an intelligent usage of your department's resources," she said.

"I don't want to see you get hurt. What does he do? Does he hit you? Does he—"

"Please let go. _You're_ hurting me."

Agent Keller realized his grip on her shoulder had tightened, and he relaxed his hand. "Sorry. This is—I didn't like Quire to begin with—he came off as a dick."

"You've met him?" Laura was surprised. They hadn't interacted during Agent Keller's surveillance of the laboratories.

"Different assignment."

Laura realized there might be more to Quire's fear of S.H.I.E.L.D. than she originally thought. Maybe he knew something.

Maybe Agent Keller had direct access to someone that Quire was afraid of.

"Please…I like you, if you're in trouble, I want to help you," the Agent said, his voice a bit softer. "You seem like a strong woman. If something bad is going on—it'd have to be _really_ bad for you to admit it."

Laura glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Wait for me." She turned and headed for the bedroom, for her clothes.

**…**

They were in a diner, waiting for the breakfast they'd ordered. Laura had remained tight-lipped on the way there, not trusting that her transport and car were not bugged in some mechanical way by Quire.

But they were here now—and it should be safe. She'd never, ever, ever come here before. She was sure it would be awful. But the safety was worth it.

"Tell me." Agent Keller was staring at her expectantly.

Laura hesitated. How could she even put the last few years of her life into words? There is such a thing as Overwhelming, with a capital O, in which an experience can no longer be described, shared  
with other people. There is too much.

"I—I don't know where to start," she said, her voice wavering.

"At the beginning?" he suggested. He didn't know how far it went, obviously.

Laura took a few deep breaths. Her hands were shaking.

"My mother was a surrogate for the Early Start program. I was raised by S.H.I.E.L.D. I finished my training in biological engineering when I was fifteen," she said. "I was chosen to receive an upload of  
ten years worth of knowledge in a simple procedure by the Stepford Cuckoos. My mentor, Dr. Reyes, was very proud of me. It was a good start."

"Sounds like," Agent Keller said, taking a sip of water.

"One other student was chosen—Quentin Quire. We did not…agree…on many viewpoints."

"Such as?"

"Quire doesn't believe that humans are worthy of respect, at any level. Even as our ancestors. He believes providing anesthesia to human test-subjects is a waste of supplies. Amongst many other areas."

Agent Keller raised his eyebrows.

" That's against policy. He could be locked away for that."

Laura smiled at him slightly, patronizingly . "That's nothing, Agent. I haven't started yet."

"I'm sorry. Continue."

They were interrupted by the food arriving. Neither touched it.

"After the training, Dr. Reyes sat down with us, and explained what our first posting would be. We were to methodically eliminate Strains 9 to 100 of the Legacy-Sapien virus, which they were afraid would  
spread to mutants if not stopped in its tracks. The individual to eliminate the most strains—effectively—would be in charge of the next project, Synthesis."

"I've never heard of it." Agent Keller frowned. "I knew about the Legacy-Sapien virus strains, but—"

"Cloning, Agent Keller," Laura said directly, holding his gaze. His eyes widened slightly. "Cloning—cloning _who?_"

"Mutants. Yes, plural. Project Synthesis was about creating the ultimate Agents for S.H.I.E.L.D., that would allow them to completely eliminate human resistance. I did not know how low they would sink until  
it was too late for me to get myself out. It was information on a need-to-know basis…I didn't realize what I was doing. I was given DNA to analyze, to decode—pieces at a time. It wasn't until I received orders  
to combine these codes, these copies, and insert them into the nucleus of an egg cell, that I understood what I was doing. It is my belief, therefore, that none of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents the codes were taken  
from are aware of this project either."

"You—" Agent Keller looked disgusted.

"That's right." Laura fingered the fork in front of her. "I was very upset when I realized. I tried to obtain evidence—a photograph of the zygotes, before they could be implanted in a surrogate. I waited—I  
was very careful, I used my powers to avoid detection…but Quire caught me in action."

"Did Quire know what the project was about?" Agent Keller asked.

"I believe so." She looked down. "Quire is an omega level telepath who things ten million thoughts per second, and is capable of controlling crowds simultaneously. I was not aware of this then,  
but I certainly am now."

"He controlled you so you wouldn't tell anyone—" Agent Keller seemed to comprehend. Laura nodded.

"And this led to more. Quire realized what he could do—that he could have whatever he wanted, simply by controlling others around him. I hadn't been aware of it—his obsession with me—but I learned  
this quite quickly, as he forced his way into my life. Soon he was forcing me to do things I would rather die than do. One of these things was volunteering as the surrogate."

"Oh, my god. Laura."

Laura closed her eyes. "During this time—five months—I was not in control of my own body once. When he allowed me control again, the projects were actual, sentient beings, with consciousness. And I  
found that I share a bond with them, whether I want to or not. I am their mother." She paused. "Quire—threatened me, with their lives. Threatened to make me kill them myself, in horrible ways. He's not  
well—realizing he had complete control over me now, he became very open with his pastime. Quire is addicted to Hypercortisone D."

"Kick."

Laura nodded. "His addiction consumed him. He had moved in with me, and somehow managed to marry me during the period I can't remember. And now he didn't bother concealing when he was taking it.  
Not only that—he converted part of the laboratory to produce the drug. He has grown quite wealthy off selling his excess, although he doesn't do it for money. If he wanted money, he could make people  
give it to him. Quire believes that Kick should be available to _everyone._"

Agent Keller stared at the girl in the seat across from him. He saw it clearly now, she was a girl, not a woman, all professional, like the illusion she skillfully played off. She'd deflated, telling him the secret that  
made her seem so aloof. And it certainly was a big secret—both he and she would be executed without question if it ever leaked out. There were so many forces at work here—S.H.I.E.L.D. keeping its project  
quiet—a drug circuit that depended on Quire remaining free—oh, he _knew _how fanatic Kick-addicts could get.

"So—let me—" he struggled with the concept. "You've been forced to experiment on humans unethically…then mutants…then _cloning_ mutants…were forced to carry and deliver two clones…and then separated from them?"

Laura nodded, her face pale.

"And you say Dr. Quire's insane, and he has been holding you hostage in your own home, doing—shit—to you. Not only that, but he's creating illegal drugs in the lab…and taking them?"

Laura nodded again.

Agent Keller was silent. Now he was Overwhelmed, with a capital O.

A waiter approached them, smiling, and asked if everything was okay. Laura lied and said the food was excellent, even though she hadn't tried it yet.

" Dr. Kinney—Laura—why didn't you say something to me sooner?" he asked finally, his forehead wrinkled. "Don't you trust me?"

"I trust you," Laura said, realizing that she did. "I'm afraid. Not for myself, but for the projects. For you too. He's cruel—and although he's afraid of controlling anyone who threatens his enterprises, albeit your  
connection to S.H.I.E.L.D. enforcement."

"I have anti-telepathy training," Agent Keller pointed out.

"So do I. That's not enough. Quire may very well be stronger than the Stepford Cuckoos put together. I've considered this—they never controlled me, but…"

Agent Keller frowned. "That's impossible. Why don't we _know_ about him? I've never heard of anyone like this—"

"He can make himself invisible to scanners."

"Jesus."

Silence.

Laura steeled herself—to ask for her favor. To see if he _could_ do anything…or if she'd had a terrible lapse of judgment and doomed them all.

"Will you help me rescue the projects? I'll be alright, but—"

"Holy fuck. No, you won't be alright—_all_ of this has to be fixed," Agent Keller said fiercely, almost startling Laura. She remembered he was a man with a uniform, although he wasn't currently wearing it.

Silence. Laura fingered her fork again, biting her lip.

"Did you name them?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" Laura hadn't expected him to speak.

"Your children. The projects. Did you give them names?"

"Oh. Yes, but only I use them." Laura smiled to herself slightly. "Everyone calls them the projects. Including Quire. _He_ obviously doesn't view them as real mutants, just cheap imitations. Weapons in development."

"That's disgusting." Agent Keller made a face. "Laura—don't kid yourself, I won't let you stay in that mess. Quire's a psycho. You deserve better than that."

Laura was silent, her chin trembling once or twice; she didn't know what to say.

No one had told her that she deserved anything _good _in years.

Agent Keller hesitated, seeing this, then leaned over the table and took her hands in his. "I promise. I'll help you."

Laura nodded. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't thank me. I want nothing more than to help you. I like you," he said earnestly. Then he looked a bit embarrassed.

"You're leaning in your food," Laura said, to give him a distraction. She'd sensed he meant _like_ in a sense more than friendship and casual sex.

"Oh." He leaned back and brushed eggs off his shirt. "Nice—not only have I worn this for two days now, but it's covered in _food_."

Laura smiled slightly.

Agent Keller rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know how I'm going to do it yet…help you…I mean, if Quire's as strong as you say…Jesus. I don't think witness protection is quite going to do the trick in this case."

"No." Laura was adamant. "If you're going to get Quire, it has to be an ambush…all at once. With multiple telepaths. You'll never catch him, otherwise."

"No doubt." Agent Keller frowned. "It's impossible to get to the Cuckoos, these days. But…there's this one guy I know that might be able to help us. His name is Synch. He used to be on my training squad…he  
can copy anyone's powers, and use it better than they can. He owes me a favor—I saved his life once."

Laura was silent, tight-lipped. Not smiling anymore.

"We'd have to find a way to get him in range first, without Quire realizing. That'd be pretty hard. If we could do that…I have no doubt he could shut him down long enough for us to work."

"My children could do that," Laura said quietly.

"They're telepaths?"

"Hive mind. They contain DNA for the Stepford Cuckoos." Laura paused. "They are not trained…but they would listen to me. I believe that, although they are not capable of keeping Quire down yet—they could at least  
incapacitate him long enough for you to move in."

Agent Keller nodded. "That would work. I'll go find Synch today—you get your children ready. Tell them what they need to do." Silence for a few moments.

He leaned back. "What are you going to do? When you're free?"

Laura was startled, her eyes widening. She knew the urgency—but—this had been her life for years now. And so suddenly—it might change.

"I haven't gotten that far," she admitted. "I thought—I want to be a family, with my children. Give them a life outside the cell…send them to school…see them have friends. I definitely don't want to work for  
S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore."

Agent Keller grinned. "I wouldn't think so."

Laura looked at her watch. "I have to go. I can't afford to be late."

'Wait—we need to decide when this is going to happen. In case I can't contact you. When is Quire back?"

"Friday. His flight lands at ten. He will go directly to the lab." Laura pursed her lips. "What if you can't find your friend?"

"I'll think of something. Leave that to me." Agent Keller paused. "The airport's about an hour and a half away, right?"

"Yes," Laura said.

"Let's say Friday…at noon, exactly." Agent Keller said.

"Okay." Laura flagged down a waiter and asked for the bill.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Final chapter of Coma Black! Hope you enjoyed the story, thanks for reading! I may post a sequel at some point, but I'm going to work on finishing a few other fics first. ~onelildustbunni

* * *

**-8-**

* * *

"I need a favor, Ev," Julian said seriously to the man across the counter.

He'd finally tracked down his old teammate and friend, who'd disappeared from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ranks. Or, rather, Julian hadn't bothered to keep up with _friends _after Sofia had died,  
having lost interest in his life outside of work.

Everett Thomas was working at a Starbucks. Scrubbing the counter.

"Man, I haven't heard from you in two years and the first words out of your mouth is you want a favor." Ev sneered at him. "Maybe 'it's been ages! What's up?' or even 'hi' would  
be better. You know, pretend you _care_ about your friends."

Julian winced. He hadn't told Laura about this part—that Ev was pissed off at him. "Oh, c'mon man. You sound like a girl. I've been busy."

"Yeah, right." Ev dropped his rag on the counter with a _slop _sound. "Don't give me that shit. I'm done with S.H.I.E.L.D., and you know that. I'm not going to do _anything _to help you guys out."

"It's not for S.H.I.E.L.D. It's a personal favor."

"Well, then, I'm _definitely _not doing it. See ya. Or not." Ev turned away.

"Wait—" Julian leaned over the counter. "Ev—you don't understand. It's not for me either. It's really, really important. Hear me out?"

Ev stopped. "It's about a girl, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Julian admitted. "Kinda."

Ev rolled his eyes. "Did you at least bang her yet?"

Julian flushed. "Uh, kinda…but that's not what this is about."

Ev shook his head. "Fine. I'm off, give me five minutes to get my stuff."

**…**

Julian explained the situation to Ev as they walked through a park, on the way to his old friend's apartment. By the time they reached the door, Ev finally agreed to help, 'for old time's sake'.

"Thanks, man," Julian said, standing at the door of the building as Ev pulled out his keys. "I…uh, look, I'm sorry I didn't get ahold of you sooner. I haven't been talking to  
_anyone_. It was—it hit hard." He meant Sofia.

Ev frowned. "Okay."

"That's it? You're not mad anymore?" Julian felt awkward.

"I'm still mad. But…I kinda see where you're coming from." Ev grinned. "Do it one more time and I'll never speak to you again, moron."

"Fair enough. Ten tomorrow, right? At the corner of Broadway?"

"You got it." Ev waved and went inside the building.

Julian put his hands in his pockets and walked back the way he'd come, thinking of who else he could ask for help.

**…**

Thursday evening. Laura touched the panel on the side of the door, looking through the window at the small girl who was examining her hands and kicking her little legs as  
the hung over the bench's edge.

"Hi, Rae," Laura said, smiling slightly at her daughter.

The girl looked up but said nothing. She knew how to speak, but didn't. Laura wasn't sure what sort of contact Quire had had with the children so far, but guessed it had been a negative experience.

Laura entered the cell and sat down on the bench. "I have good news!" she said when the door slid shut again, leaving them alone. Really alone. She'd disabled the cameras before entering the cell.

Rae continued to watch her.

"I'm taking you out of here," Laura said, touching the little girl's hand. "We're going to go away, all of us. You'll get to be with your brother…"

"With Nett?" the girl asked, her voice very childlike.

"Yes," Laura said. She'd told her about her brother—so she would know. The twins had been separated at birth, but they knew each other mentally, through the hive mind they  
shared. "You'll like Nate. He wants to meet you, too."

Rae was silent.

"You'll need to do something to help me," Laura said. "To help me get you out."

Rae looked at her questioningly. "Mum?"

"Yes." Laura's eyes watered slightly, like they always did when the children used that word. It made her feel horrible. Monstrous.

"I need you to stop Quire, Rae. Tomorrow, when he comes to see you." Quire did a routine visit to the twins every day; Laura suspected tomorrow would be no different. He'd check to  
make sure they were still there. "I need you and Nate to concentrate, really hard, and make him sleepy."

"Pinkeyes, mum?" Rae asked. Laura realized this was their nickname for Quire—his eyes _were_ always pink, from the Kick. It made his blood vessels burst.

"Yes, Rae. Pinkeyes."

Rae kicked her legs. "Naptime?"

"Yes. Make Pinkeyes have a nap."

"Otay," Rae said, bobbing her head energetically.

"Good girl." Laura smoothed her hair affectionately, then pulled the toddler against her in a hug. "Don't forget. I'm counting on you guys. I love you."

"Mum," Rae said in return.

**…**

Laura had a similar conversation with Nate, who seemed to grasp the concept; he was excited about leaving his cell (which Laura took as a good sign, probably signifying  
that he wouldn't forget what to do).

Then she began to work in her office. Packaging files she wanted to ensure survived whatever was to come. Unlocking regular doors. Reprogramming the security system to  
turn off at 11:59 the next day. The staff mostly ignored her, used to the routine set by Quire (and not realizing that they had free will).

By that evening, she'd done all she could think of. She turned off her computer and fingered her pencil nervously. Quire was on a plane at that very moment, returning.

Would he see through the plan? Would the children forget? Laura chewed the eraser unconsciously. Would Agent Keller be reliable?

If this failed…if he didn't show…

Laura got no sleep that night; she let the staff out of the facility and stayed, having already taken what she needed from the apartment.

**…**

Ten fifteen the next morning found Julian waiting anxiously at the corner of Broadway. He'd only gotten three hours of sleep, tossing and turning for most of the night. He was  
afraid. He'd _seen_ what people on Kick could do. And if Quire was as powerful as Laura had said—and she didn't seem like she would be the type to exaggerate—one slip-up in  
the plan, and it could wind up being a massacre.

Something else occurred to him in the sleepless night too. Why exactly had he asked Laura what she was planning to do? He was aware that he liked her, yes; he found her  
attractive, but it wasn't only that. He'd felt the first prickle of something _more_ since…Sofia.

He'd loved Sofia intensely, and it'd taken him all of two years to stop thinking about it at every waking and sleeping moment. He'd lost all his friends—pushed them away—he'd  
drunk way too much and, after a few months had passed, slept with way too many women, trying to fill her place in the bed. And—he had to admit to himself—if he slept alone,  
he sometimes cried. Which he hated.

Now he was considering something. What exactly? He'd been alone for two years, and he'd sworn he would never get involved with anyone again when Sofia had  
died. It was too painful. But…

He had struggled on, trying to sleep.

"Ev!" Julian said, spotting his friend coming towards him. "Man, I thought you weren't going to show…"

"I'm not _you,"_ Ev said snidely, reminding him of the times he'd bailed out on plans. Julian rolled his eyes. "I said I was sorry."

Ev grinned. "Let's do this."

**…**

11:45 found Laura still in her office chair, her stomach churning, barely able to breathe in anxiety. She'd just seen Quire's car pull in, on the security camera linked to her computer.

She forced herself to get out of the chair and walk to the project cells. She'd decided the safest place to be would be inside, with one child, reminding them what to do. They  
wouldn't let Quire hurt 'mum'.

Laura picked Nate's cell since it was the first one that Quire would enter. The boy was awake.

"Nate." Laura pressed herself against the wall, behind the door. "Remember what we talked about? Making Quire—Pinkeyes—take a nap?"

Nate nodded.

"It's time. When he comes in here…make him sleep."

Footsteps, down the corridor.

_**Oh Laura…did you really think that was going to work? I'm disappointed. I thought I could spend time with your kids…instead of giving your  
little brain all the good attention…**_

"GNNK!" Laura's head snapped back against the tiles as Quire began hitting her pain buttons. Fiery threads worked their way down to her fingers, her toes; the door  
opened, and Quire was there, grinning at her.

"Aww, look at that—you missed me!"

He was referring to the tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. Laura gritted her teeth, unable to speak, making squeaking noises. He tightened his hold on her mind—the threads became fireballs.

"I can make your cells eat themselves, Laura. I can make you stop breathing." He said out loud, as he did just that. "_Why_ would you want to piss me off? You stupid thing."

"NO!" Nate scrambled to his knees on the bench, his eyes glowing blue. "Nap!"

"What—" Quire turned his head, surprised. He hadn't been expecting this—and suddenly he stumbled back into the wall himself, his eyes rolling up. The projects were not experienced, but they _were_ powerful.

"Ahhck!" Laura relaxed and gasped for breath, rubbing her throat. Quire had made it feel like she was being strangled. "Good…good boy, Nate…keep it up…"

Nate stared at Quire, not responding. At this undeveloped stage, it took all of the twin's concentration to control somebody.

Laura straightened her skirt and sat down on the bench, folding her hands in her lap and looking at the door. Anxiously waiting for the footsteps of Agent Keller and  
his associate. If she did anything to Quire, S.H.I.E.L.D. would use it against her, and they would be on the run for the rest of their lives—which wouldn't be very  
long. Murdering another mutant was punishable by death, by Magneto's law.

**…**

"I thought you wouldn't come," she said, ten minutes later, looking out the door as Agent Keller and another man ran towards her, puffing.

"Of course I did." He stopped in front of her.

Ev stepped into the cell, surrounded by a rainbow-covered aura. "Wow! Lot of power here…"

"Did he hurt you?" Agent Keller touched her elbows.

"Not much." Laura parted her lips, and the space between them narrowed to nothing at all. She closed her eyes as they kissed.

"Okay, kids, you can let go…I got this…" Ev's eyes glowed and he made a fist, closing his mental fingers around Quire's mind. "Damn….he's _really_ strong…we better get him to the transport quick...HOLY!"

_**I'm impressed. **_Quire was at the door. _**You came very, very close to taking me down, Laura. So close. But you forgot…I have a little advantage that your friend here doesn't…**_

"Kick," Agent Keller said.

_**You're still here? **_Quire asked, annoyed. His face contorted. _**You're a dead man. Screwing around with my girl. Dead man. **_

"Don't hurt him!" Laura said, terrified, as Agent Keller stiffened. He'd stopped breathing, and Quire wasn't done. Total silence. Quire was going for everyone's heartbeat—everyone except her.

"NO!" Laura popped her claws—something she hadn't done in four years—and lunged at Quire's back. Drove them deep into his spinal cord, severing it, and ripped her claws upwards, towards his head. She had to—

"Kktttcht." Quire stopped, staring down at his abdomen. Agent Keller's eyes cleared slightly, and were pointed over his assailant's shoulder.

Laura's hand stopped, at his solar plexus.

"Guess…what I'm doing now," Quire gasped.

Laura was watching her hand move out of his body. With its claws.

"The funny thing…about mutations…" Quire fell to his knees, concentrating all his energy on his mind. "Is that they're…all in your head…"

_SHLUCK! _

"Gahk." Laura stared in confusion at her hands, which had sunken up to her knuckles into the center of her chest. Her labcoat was white for a few moments, then it slowly began to  
blossom, like a flower unfolding its petals in a fast-forward scene of a nature film.

Except it wasn't.

"NOOO!" Agent Keller was suddenly free; he hit Quire hard with what seemed like a laser beam of green energy. At his face.

"Oh man—" Ev panted from inside the cell, suddenly free. "What the—"

Agent Keller didn't respond, holding yet another girl he cared about, covered in blood, with a pale face. She coughed and some red droplets leaked out of her nose, the fluid traveling up from her lungs.

Agent Keller panicked. "Ev, oh my god, I've got to get her to Elixir at HQ!" He picked Laura up, and her head tilted backwards.

"I won't…make it," she said, her eyes half-shut. Quire had shut down her mutation—she could feel it, the empty space were it had been. She didn't understand it. She felt cold, and numb.

"Please…take care…of them…tell them…I love them…Rae…and Nate…not projects…" Blood rolled out of her mouth now.

"No! Laura!" Agent Keller was almost whiter than she was. "Hang on! I'll fly you there—I haven't tried since Sof but—" his eyes turned green, but Laura's closed and she exhaled completely.

"She's gone, man," Ev said from the door. Grimly. "I think I synched with those kids—I can hear it. Her heart stopped."

"No—"Julian stared at her. "I have to—"

"Let it go." Ev moved out of the cell and put his hand on his shoulder. "There's nothing you can do."

"But—" Julian blinked. The little boy peered out of his cell with one wide blue eye.

"Mum?" he asked.

"Looks like that's you now," Ev said quietly.

**_THE END..._**


End file.
